FateDesolate Paradise
by Askelon
Summary: In the wake of the grail war, the world has been ripped apart. The Throne of Heroes has been annihilated, releasing all those spirits within it's thrall upon the modern day world. Nothing remains but the ruins and the constant fighting of those who destroyed it. But there are yet wishes to be granted, and worlds to be explored. Every book must be read, some time or another.
1. Chapter 1

A year.

Just the one year. It seemed so long, now. So god-awfully drawn out. A gruelling, horrific and unending nightmare.

The white-haired man in the red coat, whose name was known only to himself and but one other, wandered through the ruins of what was once the city of Fuyuki. After the destruction of the Holy Grail, the world had been warped. The Throne of Heroes- the repository for none other than the most vile, the most just, the mightiest heroes Mankind had ever conceived- had been thrown into chaos. Powers which once separated the two worlds had ceased to be, and so the two had crashed together. Myth and legend had come alive in the very streets of every city on Earth, and in their confusion, many of the Heroic Spirits had thought themselves under attack by one another, and engaged in battle. Had there been but a few Spirits, it might not have been as bad.

But there were many spirits.

All of them, in fact. The dead. The living. The good, and the evil. Within the first few weeks, their battles had become so desperate, that in order to survive they had to take their war to ever greater heights. A secret war became a very public war for all of a day. Then, there was no public to be privy to it. Humanity had not been ready for this war, had not known it existed. Most of them experienced only a brief few hours of terror and confusion before the many spirits, all warring with decreasing restraint, obliterated almost everything around them. Light coursed through the night skies, a veritable rainbow, as the would-be heroes lashed out at one another. It had disgusted him, how few had even tried to minimize damage. Buildings exploded, children turned to ash, and all of it for the sake of killing but one individual.

It had been too much. No cover-up could ever stop this. No weapon wielded by humanity could ever vanquish the might of these would-be servants, and even if there was such a thing, there were so many of them that it would not be worth the effort. Survival began to mean 'more than human'. Contracts with the World for those privileged few aware of what such a thing was were the only way to survive. Match the monster, or become the victim. A choice many did not wish to make, and a choice that more had never known existed. For a brief moment, the reflective man turned, his red coat fluttering in the wind.

He wondered if he regretted his decision- he couldn't tell, anymore. As a contracted spirit, he had survived, and even thrived, on this new Earth. Too late for _her, _though.

Always too late.

Without Avalon, her blessed artifact, his dearest Saber was no longer infallible. By now, the shining King of Knights, Arturia Pendragon (the only one whose name he cared to recall anymore.. the only friend, at least) was confined to a wheelchair, hidden as far as he had managed to get her away from the ruins that now played host to a twisted, endless war.

His hands clenched and became fists, just as they had on that fateful day.

The golden king, the arrogant mongrel who had dared strike Arturia and dared to say she was property, had done this to her. She had almost saved them- convinced enough of the Spirits to stand united that they might have been able to stop the conflict, to reset from the world's violent status.

Almost.

Then Gilgamesh had come. Lancelot. Hercules. The mad magician. They- and many more- had bent their knee to him. In a way, thought the man bitterly, he had accomplished through fear what Arturia had accomplished through true leadership. It did not spare her, though. Not from his cursed rage.

Their fight had been, perhaps, the only organized battle since the start of this free-for-all, seven months ago. In the end, only the man in red and the golden king had stood. For so long, the man in red thought he had won- thought he had saved blessed Arturia. Instead, the golden king's attention was forced elsewhere, leaving their fight unfinished and Arturia's wounds unhealed. Thanks to the man in red and his efficient concealment, they had never seen the dreaded Gilgamesh again. But it was not a good thing… no, for Gilgamesh still held the cursed spear that had dealt her such a strike, the weapon of the very Lancer- his name forgotten, now- who had stood to defend her from the golden king and had been slain. Arturia lived… but without that spear, she would never, ever walk again.

They had been hiding for so long, now. So very long. Against all odds, for _her,_ he had carved a life. A shallow life- but a life nonetheless. As happy as they could make it.

But he knew it wasn't enough for _her. _It never was. Sure, she was happy, but there was always a part of his beloved that wept for the time where she would lift her blade in the name of all things good. Not so long before this- before his contract- she had done so in his stead, as his Servant. Forging between them a bond in the crucible of war so strong, it had not broken still.

There was no way he could replace her sense of justice, though. So long as she did not wield a blade for her ideals, she would never be happy, and the man in red knew this. Never truly at home, always restless, feeling sad and depressed. It was the only thing that had let him leave her in their small, would be home in the mountains, to seek something in Fuyuki.

He had made up his mind that this was not the world he wanted to live in, not any more. Whatever chance there had been for it to be a good place had vanished when so many of the Spirits had given in to their predatory instincts, their primal fear of everyone and everything that could possibly hurt them. Even Spirits can die- and they had already died in droves because of this lack of trust. Their war had torn the human world to shreds, and decimated their numbers. There would, without a doubt, be an emergence of some new civilization after their wars had stopped, and they were capable of co-existing.

In that critical moment when Gilgamesh had wounded Arturia, the world's fate was sealed. Without the would-be king _(No. She would be a queen! A queen!)_ to guide them down the right path, they would instead be driven by Gilgamesh, because he would cow them into submission. It would be only a matter of time.

But he had a plan. At long last, a way to spit in the Golden King's face and live.

The World had a tendency to hold on to that which made it powerful, to rid itself of pollutants and preserve the powers of many that walked it's surface.

Though it had long deviated from it's intended purpose, the Grail was no exception to this. It's corruption had been eliminated from the core, remaining only upon the face of the world, a muddy, slag-filled blemish on the face of the Earth. Somewhere just beyond, was the Grail itself. The only one who knew it remained, now, was the man in red. With any luck, it would stay that way. After so long, he might actually win. A mighty achievement, for what would no doubt be his last few hours alive.

Abruptly, his feet stopped moving. His shoes had come to the very edge of the sickly place. The ruins, where Arturia had struck down the Grail. For a moment, he hesitated- what if his plan didn't work? What then?

_If it doesn't work, then you've already died. Gilgamesh will find you, kill you, and violate Arturia while he's at it. Press on, coward._

The ground seemed to vibrate with each step- the mud becoming harder and harder to dislodge as he raised his foot, and pressed forward. _Onwards…_

"_**What is it you think you're doing in the mud, mongrel?"**_

Had he been spoken to by that voice a few months ago, he would have trembled in fright. By now, he had been prepared for the reality that by the time he reached the grail, Gilgamesh would find him.

"_**If you wanted to die, you could have just said so. I would have been happy to slay a rebel so thorny and troublesome as you. Even you must agree that death by mud is simply… not appealing."**_

He still marched forward- sinking deeper still into the mud, to the apparent bemusement of Gilgamesh. The foul king was saying something behind his back, but at this point, he had no interest in hearing his words. The king began to laugh raucously as his longtime foe sank into the mud- a laugh that stopped abruptly once a bright light burst from the center, spreading outwards into the air. Clutching the grail, emerged the man in red. It was a pure grail- a simple wooden cup. With it in hand, he made a mad rush towards the spot where his beloved hid, much to the king's rage. Soon, he was in hot pursuit, flinging things at the man as he ran, shouting threats to no avail. So palpable was his rage that he did not realize until the moment he ran into it that the man he pursued had dropped something in his path- a boulder.

Stone would buy only a precious few seconds for them. But it would be enough. The grailbearer rushed through the caves, into the makeshift bedroom, where a beautiful woman lay quiet, her green eyes and blonde hair so familiar, he almost stopped to admire them. She spoke, her voice possessing little of the kingly might she had once felt.

"Shirou…? Why are you running?"

He paused. Then shook his head, offering her the grail- which, by some miracle, was now full of water.

"Drink it, Arturia. Share this with me in our last moments."

She drank. That was all they needed. Gilgamesh burst into the room- and the Grail's wrath turned upon him, throwing him out of the cave. Arturia shuddered- and dissolved, her last expression one of shock and fear, her final words…

"Shirou, what did you..?"

For a long moment, the man in red- Shirou, he reminded himself- smiled.

He spoke to no one.

"I did it. I won the Holy Grail War."

Then the many thousand blades of Gilgamesh's wrath pierced his body, and he let go of his life.

Arturia was another story. Her future was safe…

Just like he had always planned.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that he became aware of was the sudden lack of swords piercing his body in all directions, or the golden boot of an angry king in his face. There was no longer a cold stone floor on his face. Instead, it was…

Grass.

Very soft, very clean, grass.

...None of that had remained after the Spirits had torn through.

Shirou jumped to his feet, entirely unconvinced by the painful protest of his body that he should stay down. He threw his arms wide, and whooped to the sky, grinning like a madman. His feet pounded across the ground as he rushed through the sea of grass, hollering in his joy.

"I won! I did it! Ah- hahaha-" He stopped very abruptly.

"...Arturia? Ar-Arturia?"

There was no answer.

Something had gone wrong. His exclamations of joy turned into a horrific, tormented scream that covered the otherwise silent grassy plain. There were no words for his pain, only this inhuman wail could express his torment at the nature of his so-called success. Shirou fell to his knees, and wept. Right now, there was nothing except for the pain of his failure. It would be a wonder if he didn't cut his own throat by the time he had finished crying.

_In another stretch of the world, our beloved King wakes from her slumber…_

As she lay dying, Arturia sighed. She was no fool- she knew what was coming. Avalon, or the eternal darkness she had felt in her dreams since but a week ago. There was no stopping it- without her blessed scabbard, she was going to die.

She wanted so very badly to go back into her dream. To the beginning. To just… start it all over, again. Perhaps not be so oblivious to the young Shirou's attentions. A little more time, perhaps, for the two of them. There was nothing she would not have done to obtain that time, even if it had meant using the Grail. Such as it was, this revelation made her feel… weak. Shirou would have disapproved of it, certainly, this true wish of hers.

'_If he had not made such a wish already...' _

The last few months that her glorious dream had encompassed were… not glorious.

Victory had been within her grasp. Iskandar, Diarmuid, Joan… even Mordred. They, and many others, had been willing to stand beside her against Gilgamesh without question. Their loyalty was very similar to that which her Knights had bore her, save for that there were so many more that had been loyal.

Gilgamesh was far more frightening than she was commanding, however. For every noble spirit that had assembled at her side, two had joined Gilgamesh out of fear.

He had won. The arrogant bastard had beaten her. And had not Shirou saved her, he would have done much worse. Her army- if it could be called that- had been destroyed, just like it had been that fateful day at Camlann.

But Shirou HAD saved her. Against all odds, he had beaten back Gilgamesh, and they had escaped. She had tried so hard to be happy, after they went into hiding. It was just… so difficult, to watch him walk around with what should rightfully be -her- burden on his shoulders. True, they had agreed to share it, but during the Grail War she had shouldered that burden for him, and she would have continued to do so for him if he had not made that contract with the World. Even then…

The King of Knights had been confined to a wheeled chair, living with her beloved in a hovel that never changed. His presence was the only reason she had remained sane.

He wasn't here, though. Not any more. Once she had seen Gilgamesh coming back through the door, and then vanished herself, she knew his fate. Tears began to slide down her face.

'_Shirou is dead.'_

The thought filled her with a final sadness, and silently, she shed her tears. She had deprived him of so much of his time with her, in that first fight, shunned him… and he had still died for her, as he had intended to long ago. Without ever having been asked to. Whatever he had done that had been so important as to risk Gilgamesh seeing him, he had surely done for her.

Perhaps the worst thought of all, was that she knew it had not been a dream. There was a man- or would one day be a man- named Shirou Emiya, who died for a disgraced king's love, because he had been a hero. A true hero.

The darkness was tugging at her eyes, trying to pull them shut again. Fighting it would give her only a few minutes. Already she could feel the tingle in her legs- the legs were always the first things to disappear, when one such as her was dying.

Listening to the forest had always given her peace as a child. It comforted her, even as she was prepared to drift off into her final sleep.

"Why are you crying?" asked a quiet voice.

A young girl stood before her, surely no more than seven or eight years old. Her skin was pale, like Arturia's. Surprisingly fair of face, with short brown hair that fluttered in the wind, with peculiar silver eyes. She was holding a long wrapped cloth bundle closely to her chest.

Arturia sighed. There was no will in her to respond. The girl then spoke again.

"...You can't just lay there, you know." Small fingers began to unwrap the cloth bundle- and she held her hand out to the dying king. "...take my hand?" she asks her quietly.

Slowly, the king reached for her- and the girl unveiled Avalon. Arturia stared at it in wonder.

"How did you come by this?"

"A nice man with white hair and a red coat gave it to me. He told me to come and give it to you, and then he said something good would happen."

She smiled innocently- it was then that Arturia noticed the blood running down the little girl's arm.

"What happened to you, child…?"

"A mean man with a big sword cut me when I ran past him to come find him. It doesn't hurt any more."

Avalon seemed to have protected the girl… but such a small body would not survive much longer, even with Avalon in tow.

"Give me the scabbard. What is your name?"

"I'm Norbana. What's yours?" she asked, as she handed the scabbard to her.

The king pondered this. What should she say? Was she still King Arthur Pendragon, or was she Shirou's friend, Arturia Pendragon? She wracked her mind for the answer. Fortunately, her voice knew how to reply.

"My name is Arturia."

As she took Avalon into her arms, smiling at the warmth, the girl sat down next to her, yawning. "I'm...tired."

Norbana reached into the bundle again- and pulled out the very grail that Arturia had drank from a short while ago, sipping out of it with heavily lidded eyes. Her body was already cold- and out of instinct, Arturia put her arm around the girl and tugged her closer. She was offered the grail, and soon drank from it, as the two of them began to drift off to what seemed to be their mutual last sleep, despite Avalon's presence…

_Light shined from the base of the tree, where a king and a child had come to rest. The birds stopped chirping, the wind grew still, and it was as if the world itself had paused to witness this miracle. The two figures were soon shrouded by the light, invisible to the world, as Avalon worked it's magic. What happened there, only the two of them would ever truly know. But when the light finally died down, the child and the king were gone. _

_In their place knelt a tall woman- six feet tall with a face befitting royalty, practically radiating nobility. Her hair was cut at a medium length, just over her shoulders, and the black locks lay still in the lack of wind. The woman's eyes, however, were a striking feature, for they were a steel-blue color that seemed almost aglow. Despite her regal features, the woman was clad in the clad in the faded brown of commoner's clothing._ _Her eyes scanned her surroundings, looking about in some slight confusion, as if having expected someone and finding them absent. They turned to where the king and the child had sat._

"Where did you go…?"

(A note for my reader/s. I admit, this second chapter was a mite forced. There was this idea in my head, itching at me all day, and yet I had little clue how to reach such a conclusion. For that stumble, I apologize. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed that. With any luck, there shall be another chapter soon.

Let me know what you think- thank you, and good night.)


End file.
